


A welcome to Ferelden's winter time

by icylook



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21872143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylook/pseuds/icylook
Summary: Ellanis is out the tent for some time, cheeks pink thanks to the cold, when Zevran emerges, blinking at the expanse of white, eyes squinting in the blinding light. He's muttering something in Antivan, grip tight on the blanket around his shoulders, puffs of breath visible in the air.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Tabris, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden
Kudos: 7





	A welcome to Ferelden's winter time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apostate (394percentdone)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/394percentdone/gifts).



> Secret Santa gift from Zevraholics Wintersend Gift Exchange (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ Happy holidays and a lot of cheerful Ellanis&Zevran moments for you!

On the edge of the awarness, Ellanis takes a deep breath, tasting the chill in the air. He can hear muted voices outside, unusually softened. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking out the pieces of the dream, sleepiness clinging to his mind. Tent's canvas is sagging slightly under the snow, the weight of it reducing the space and making it look cozier.

 _Not constricting, it's just snow_ , Ellanis thinks as he glances to his side, lazily stretching his arms, mindful of the person sleeping next to him. There's a bit of blonde hair sticking out from the blankets and furs, Zevran burrowed under them. For a moment he's just watching, warmth blossoming in his chest, expanding with the feel of abysmal longing. His fingers itch to touch and run down on Zevran's skin, but he doesn't want to disturb him. Giving him the chance to get a little more of sleep, as he knows this day'll be long. Travelling in fresh snow will be a challenge. So he keeps looking, a small smile on his lips, gaze soft and after awhile of sleepy indulgenance, he slowly gets up, untangling himself from his own blankets and unhurriedly going through his morning routine of stretching, dressing up and making himself presentable.

Ellanis is out the tent for some time, cheeks pink thanks to the cold, when Zevran emerges, blinking at the expanse of the white, eyes squinting in the blinding light. He's muttering something in Antivan, grip tight on the blanket around his shoulders, puffs of breath visible in the air. Ellanis smiles a small, private smile just before an idea strikes him, the line of his lips turning mischevious. He catches Leliana's eye just before he gestures with his finger in an universal motion of _“Shh_ “ and calls in his magic, making himself a bit harder to spot, creeping slowly to the side and leaning down to scoop some of the snow. He's keeping eyes on his target, as the cold of the snow's seeping the warmth from his fingers, melting slightly, before he boosts it with magic. Then, he aims and grecefully throws it, the arc of the snowball nearly perfect. Years of practice seem to pay back, the memorable snowballs fights from _before_ , when all of them were together, happy, when the days were simpler and not so gloomy.

There's a yelp when the snowball hits its target and very peculiar fumbling, as Zevran's gaze zeroes on Ellanis, reddened cheeks and blonde hair in dissaray, and the view is enough to make him burst out laughing, the sound carrying through the camp and Leliana’s stiffled chuckle answers him in his amusement. The face Zevran makes is like he can't decide, if he should be offended or amused himself, but in the end he mutters something more under his breath just before he sniffs dramatically and vanishes back into the tent, his motions jerky and shuddery, most likely trying to get rid of the melting snow under his collar. Ellanis straightens up from his hunched postion, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes and he follows Zevran into the tent, making his approach loud, giving the man a moment to collect himself, the chance to say “ _No”_ , if he'd like to avoid his presence.

He sees Zevran on the floor, shivering, as he changes the soaked shirt, and Ellanis steps closer with a friendly smile, hands open. Zevran glances back at him over his shoulder, visibly pouting, and the corners of Ellanis' eyes crinkle as he wiggles his fingers.

“I can warm you up, if you wish?”

Zevran's looking at him steadily until he huffs with another grumble and he shrughs “Close the tent please, it's a bloody void out there.”

Ellanis takes it as permission, waving his hand at the tent’s opening and he slowly lowers himself to his knees, mindful of his bad leg, then sits with his legs on Zevran's side, making himself comfortable at Zevran's back. He touches the warm skin and lets his magic do the work and Zevran sighs and sags into his hands. Ellanis brushes Zevran's hair away, leaning in to gently kiss his nape. “Welcome to Ferelden's winter,” he whispers and Zevran's amused snort and noticeable melting into his warm touch are the only answers for a while.


End file.
